Across The Prairie In A Motor Caravan Part 9

I took the gra.s.s track up from the river, the same which I had used when crossing the ferry before; but the van stuck at the top, so I had to unload, and then back down to the bottom and rush up again at full speed. It was a very hot day and a weary task repacking the van. We bitterly regretted our refusal of the kind waggoner's offer to pull us up.

I saw Winifred off by train, and then went on to Eyebrow, 96 miles. It was rather fun trying to race Winifred's train, which I could see on the track a little ahead of me. I did nearly catch her at one station, but was not quite quick enough. I was very grateful for all Winifred's help, and found it rather difficult to find my way without her, as she always held the map. But I struck a green blazed trail after a time, and then found my way quite easily. This trail fortunately avoided that bad corner at Elbow, and the surface of all the trails was far better now than when we came up. I arrived at Eyebrow about 5 p.m.

The next day Mr. T. took me to visit some parents, with whom we had meals, and then on to Keelerville day-school, where I gave an address.

I was surprised to find one little girl answering all my questions with great fluency, while the others sat in open-mouthed admiration. I said to myself, "I'm sure you've been to the Qu'Appelle Diocesan School for Girls," as I had noticed the same phenomena in Sunday Schools in Regina, and my surmise proved to be correct.

We went out to supper, where we had the usual great bowl of boiled eggs, from which we helped ourselves, everyone being expected to eat at least three. It was very dark on our return journey, and the headlights sometimes went very dim. I found it extremely pleasant to be driven for once.

I left Eyebrow on the Wednesday afternoon, and went on to Mortlack, about 38 miles. I found my way all right, but had to go through a great deal of sand. Fortunately I did not stick. The vicar and his wife gave me a very warm welcome when I arrived that evening. There were five small children and a young theological student in the house. The vicar had been presented with a Ford caravan very much like mine, in which to get about his rural deanery. For everyday use he had a Ford car, and he took me round the district in this. I taught in two schools and held a parents' meeting on the first day, and gave a picture talk and two addresses to parents and teachers on the next day. Indoors I helped the student with the household ch.o.r.es, which he had made part of his duty.

The vicar's wife had her hands full with the children. The latter were charming people; they specially loved jumping in and out of the caravan.

I secured temporary quietude by taking them down the town and presenting them with "all-day suckers." This protection of the Canadian parent is a large hard, brightly-coloured confection, stuck on a pointed stick, which forms a handle. As the name suggests, it is supposed to last all day. Another favourite comestible is chewing-gum. The children in their turn frequently presented me with both these dainties. But what I really liked were the delicious ice-creams and ice-cream sodas and sundaes.

Those of the latter that one buys in England are but pale shadows of the original. The real, true sundae is a bowl of genuine ice-cream, on the top of which is preserved fruit in rich syrup, with chopped nuts scattered over it.

This rural deanery received a great deal of support from the Colonial and Continental Church Society. They wanted me to stop at Mortlack over Sunday, but I felt that I should never get all my affairs settled up in Regina before catching my boat unless I went on at once.

So I started off for Regina on the Sat.u.r.day, and got there in the afternoon (70 miles). The trail was exceedingly bad, as they were newly grading it, and in some places I had to get over mounds of loose earth about four feet or more high. It was odd to find my watch an hour different from the Regina clocks. The big towns have summer time, but the C.P.R. and the country places keep to ordinary time.

I had a very warm reception from the W. family, behind whose house I stored the caravan until I had time to clean it. The first thing to do was to clean myself and my wardrobe. I looked more like a mechanic than a Sunday School "expert." I found oil on most of my clothes, and without Mrs. W. should never have got them clean again. It was very nice not to have to turn out in the morning and cook breakfast over a bad-tempered Primus. Mrs. W.'s meals were not easily forgotten, and now they seemed extra good. The Canadian breakfast is a dream: you begin with grape fruit, and then come "cereals," followed by eggs and bacon, and sometimes griddle cakes with maple syrup, or johnnie cakes.

When I went to church on Sunday morning I had another kind reception, and the vicar insisted that I should give an address to the whole Sunday School in church that afternoon.

Next day I went to see Archdeacon Dobie and Archdeacon Knowles, and had a long talk with them, the gist of which I append later. I told them that I wished to present the caravan to the diocese, that this work might be carried on. Archdeacon Knowles offered to take charge of the van and its equipment during the winter, promising that it should be stored in the Synod garage.

The caravan had covered at least 3,000 miles in just over three months.

We started from Regina on May 21 and got back on August 21. We visited ten existing Sunday Schools and started four new ones; we also visited twelve day schools and enrolled sixty children in the Sunday School by Post. Besides this we gave many Bible picture talks to children and addresses to parents and teachers, held a good many services in church, and did a lot of visiting.

CHAPTER XVIII

AN INDIAN RESERVE

I felt that I could not leave Canada without seeing an Indian Reserve. I had met Miss A., the headmistress of the Christian boarding school at Punnichy, so I wrote to her asking if I might pay a flying visit to the Reserve, and received a warm invitation. I left Regina at 9.30 p.m. and did not arrive at Punnichy till next morning at 6.30. I travelled with a large number of Doukhobors, extraordinary people who talk a most curious language. They come from southern Russia, and are a religious sect. They live in communities, having everything in common, even wives. The women wear picturesque clothes--a coloured handkerchief over their heads and another over their shoulders, with a very full short skirt. I noticed that the train inspector seemed uneasy at my being in their compartment, and soon moved me to another one. But I had to remain an hour with them in the waiting-room at Saskatchewan, and they seemed quite harmless and were interesting to watch.

I was met by a Mrs. T., who drove me in her own car up to the Reserve. I found that she had nursed in France during the War, had had sh.e.l.l shock, and had received the Royal Red Cross. Her husband was the headmaster of the day school on the Reserve. She had found that the Indians were without a nurse of any kind, and so she was giving her services in that capacity and had her hands full. She had even bought a car in order to get round the Reserve. There was a great deal of sickness, the Indians being very tubercular now, and there was much infant mortality. Mrs. T.

said that she badly needed another nurse to help her. She was then on her way to the school to help the doctor operate on a good many children for adenoids and tonsils, but it would be a case of "first catch your hare," as the patients always fled into the bush on these occasions.

Miss A. and her father, the chaplain on the Reserve, received me very kindly. After breakfast I was asked to give the children a Scripture lesson. They were bright, attractive children, but not nearly so quick as the British children. They knew a great deal, however, having been well taught. It seemed very sad that our British children had been so neglected that they knew less about the Bible than these Indian children did. I bought some of the beautiful moccasins and bead chains which they make on the Reserve. The mother of one of the pupils had made the Bishop's mitre all out of beads.

Outside the school-house there was a poor little boy lying on a mattress, the other children entertaining him with picture books. I asked what was the matter with him, and was told that he had broken his leg and the witch-doctors had essayed to cure it, doing him great harm.

But he was now getting well under proper supervision. We had meals with the Indian children, in a nice family way. They talked good English, of course, having been in the school for several years. The _raison d'etre_ of the boarding school is to give the children a good standard of living. When they attend a day school they have to live at home in the dirty hovels, which undoes much of the civilising influence they have received. When they are old enough the boys are trained to work on the school farm, under the management of Mr. A. I was shown the beautiful little church, but was saddened to see the many little wooden crosses marking the babies' graves. We saw some fine Indian men, looking quaint with their long braided hair and big shady hats. They are being trained to farm work, at which they prove most efficient. I should have liked to have seen the Indian warriors in war paint, but this is seldom allowed by the Government now as it is found to have such an exciting effect on them. There had been a display of the Hudson Bay Company at Winnipeg in the May of that year, but I was not able to go.

There was something singularly tragic in the sight of these people, disinherited, and suffering from diseases which they never knew in their old free life. It is one of those great injustices for which there seems to be no remedy.

I remained for evening prayer, and was asked by Mr. A. to give the address. I told the story of St. Christopher, which seemed to be much appreciated. Then I caught a night train and got back to Regina next morning.

CHAPTER XIX

HEADED FOR HOME

On my return from Punnichy I went to see the Bishop and Mrs. Harding, and described our caravan tour. His lordship said that my account only emphasised his previous conviction that work among the children was of vital importance, and he hoped I would come back in the following spring to carry it on. I explained that I had my diocesan work in England, and had only six months' leave of absence, and was even now hurrying back to take a Teachers' Training Course.

I had plenty to do during the next few days. I had sent home to England for a good many books and pictures, and these now had to be done up and sent off to the different places we had visited on the prairie. A decidedly arduous task, too, was the cleaning of the caravan, to which a good deal of the trail still clung. I spent strenuous hours with a hose and brush, cleaning it inside and out. A hole had been knocked in the composition boarding of the door, and I racked my brains to think of a way to mend it. Then I remembered the paper pulp with which we make raised maps. This did splendidly and hardened well. Then there were all the books and pictures and models to catalogue and store for the winter, ready for those who should take the van out next spring.

I had told the garage to fetch the caravan and take the engine down and clean and overhaul it, but as they did not send for it I took it round myself on the Monday and said that it must be done by the Thursday, as I had to leave for England. When I went next day they had merely taken down a little bit of the engine. They did not get to work on it properly till the Wednesday, which was very annoying, as I wished to have the back springs strengthened, a long job, and one which I meant to see thoroughly done. I spent Thursday running to and fro between the garage and the parish hall (where many of my things were stored). I had to catch an early train in the morning, and so told a porter overnight to fetch my cases and boxes from the parish hall. After supper I went round to the garage again to see if the van was finished. It wasn't. I knew that if I left it the mechanics would go off to some other car, and not only would my van certainly not be done in the morning, but quite possibly it would never be properly done at all, and when used next year might break down at a critical moment. I therefore determined to stay and see it finished. I knew the garage was open all night, with a special set of mechanics for night duty. Hour after hour pa.s.sed. I stood around by the van and handed tools from time to time, and pointed out what I wanted done, and by thus keeping them at it the van was actually finished soon after 7 a.m. I rushed off with it to the W.'s, and Mrs. W.

and I packed all the equipment in it as fast as we could. Then I hurried up to the Synod garage, taking a man with me to remove the electric starter, which would freeze if left in all winter. As I flew along I thought wistfully of the splendid breakfast which kind Mrs. W. had prepared and which I had no time to eat. I handed over the car and keys, got another car to take me to the station, and just managed to catch the train. There was no time to feel sentimental over bidding farewell to my beloved "Tin Lizzie," who had done such wonders for us. Several friends came to see me off, but my cases from the parish hall only appeared on the platform as the train steamed out of the station, and it was months before I saw them again.

I went by train to Fort William, on Lake Superior, then by the Great Lakes and down the St. Lawrence River. Lake Superior is a huge inland sea, into which you could drop England. On Sunday morning we reached the easterly end of the lake, where the great locks are between Lake Superior and Lake Huron. We stopped at Sault St. Marie for several hours, and some of us went ash.o.r.e to church. I hunted about for an Anglican church, and seeing one with a cross on it made for it; but it was a Roman Catholic church, and was packed to the doors. Next I found a Presbyterian church, and at last found an Anglican one, which I afterwards discovered was the pro-cathedral. The Archbishop of Algoma was preaching on the Lambeth Conference, from which he had just returned. I had to leave before the end of the service lest the boat should go without me. We started again at one o'clock, and went down Lake Huron and through the Georgian Bay and past the Ten Thousand Islands. It was very beautiful. We arrived at Fort McNicholl at 8 a.m.

on Monday. I then went by train to Toronto, and thence took a steamer down Lake Ontario. It was a grey day, but the scenery was lovely, and the waves quite rough, like the sea. We pa.s.sed into the St. Lawrence at night, and on the Tuesday morning began to pa.s.s the Thousand Islands, some of which are disfigured by enormous houses, which look too big for the island. At Prescott we changed into a tiny steamer called _The Queen of the Rapids_, and went on down the river, soon coming to the first of the rapids, which the steamer shot. There is a drop of three hundred feet between Prescott and Montreal. The biggest rapid is the Lachine Rapid, with a fall of eighty-five feet. These rapids have always been shot by the Indians in their canoes, and now one always comes on board to pilot the steamer down. The river here is far wider than the Thames at London, and the rapids form a foaming bar from side to side, through which there is only one narrow channel. As we rushed through we were suddenly aware that the walls of water close on either side were veiling rocks, between which the boat pa.s.sed with only a few inches to spare. We went three miles in one and a half minutes. In 1921 the rudder chain broke when the steamer was shooting the rapids. The boat dashed on the rocks and had a hole knocked in it, but the pa.s.sengers managed to reach an island and were all saved.

We arrived at Montreal that night, whence I went on to Quebec by train, the _Empress of France_ being too big to get up the river. I arrived at Quebec in the cold early morning, and spent the day hunting up my luggage, but finding very little of it. I found time, however, to go up to the Heights of Abraham, whence I had a magnificent view right over the harbour. Both here and at Fort William the gigantic elevators were a striking sight, and I could also see a lot of lumber floating in Quebec harbour.

Quebec is a strangely old-world town, noticeably so after the very modern West. I went into a shoemaker's shop to get a shoe mended, but had to make my wants known chiefly by signs, as the man spoke a queer old French and knew no English.

This journey down through the Great Lakes and the St. Lawrence is so exceedingly beautiful that it is a pity more people do not take it. But it is only possible in the summer months. After October the lakes are too rough, and in winter the St. Lawrence is blocked by ice.

As we steamed out of Quebec the Heights of Abraham looked very fine with the sunset behind them. We went by the northern pa.s.sage, between Labrador and Newfoundland. At night the Northern Lights lit up the sky for two or three hours together, and just here we had to go slowly for fear of sunken icebergs.

We got to Liverpool on September 15, but though we arrived at 4 p.m., we did not get off the boat till 7.30 p.m., as a White Star liner was at the landing-stage, so I did not get home till next morning.

CHAPTER XX

SOME PRESENT-DAY NEEDS OF THE PRAIRIE

In the interview which I was granted with Archdeacon Knowles and Archdeacon Dobie before leaving Regina, I tried to explain my conviction that the future of the Anglican Church on the prairie depended on the training of the children. If they remained as ignorant of religion as we found them in many places, it was obvious that their generation would have no use for the Church. On the other hand, they were now in an intensely receptive state, and the parents were more than willing that they should receive instruction, and had supported us by every means in their power, both by promising to carry on our work and by giving us most generous hospitality. Experience had proved that a caravan was the best means of reaching these outlying districts, first because they were often so far from the railway, and also because there was no accommodation for women visitors in most of the shacks.

When I offered my van to the diocese, Archdeacon Knowles suggested that I should leave suggestions for its future use. Those I made were as follows: (1) That in the spring, summer, and fall, a Sunday School expert should use the van on the prairie, starting Sunday Schools, visiting the farms and day schools, giving Bible lessons in school hours, if allowed by the trustees, if not, after school hours; taking names for the Sunday School by Post; helping the existing Sunday Schools, teachers, and clergy. (2) That the expert must be a person fully trained for the work, either at St. Christopher's, Blackheath, London, or in any similar inst.i.tution which might be started in Canada.

(3) The expert must be accompanied by someone who has driven a car for at least a year, and done her own running repairs. She should be able to cook, and willing to teach a cla.s.s under the direction of the expert.

(4) Concerning the finance: the travelling expenses of the workers, their board, and the running expenses of the caravan should be raised in England until the diocese is able to support them. If possible, a salary should be provided, but, failing this, honorary workers might be found.

Archdeacon Dobie read me a report which he had just received from two of the Mission clergy who had gone out in the other Ford caravan. They had done between two and three thousand miles already, and I afterwards heard that by the end of the season they had gone 6,000 miles and baptized 101 children. It was interesting to note where their report corroborated ours. They spoke of the spiritual desolation of the people, who asked them if the Church would only send clergy where a stipend could be guaranteed. They remarked on the eagerness of the children to learn, their intense appreciation of the sacraments and services, and the pathetic ignorance of the children and young people, many of whom had never been to a service before. The bad effects of this isolation and lack of education were very noticeable, they said. One of the clergy, in his report, spoke of the people "disappointed of their hope year after year, cut off from the Church--the glory and joy of which separation has deepened--there is little wonder at times they are almost on the verge of insanity." He adds: "If only some lover of Christ and of the British Empire would provide for two such vans to run for a few more years until the tide turns and the country develops, much might be done to save the children of the prairie and to foster a spirit of loyalty to the Mother Country."

These Mission clergy seemed to feel, as we had done, that the time for seizing these wonderful opportunities is now or never. The worship of the almighty dollar may easily take the place of true religion unless this present hunger for spiritual things is satisfied. It would be a serious reflection on the Anglican Church if she should let this golden opportunity pa.s.s.

Some time after I had returned to England I received a letter from a man at Stimson (which the Railway Mission used to work from Youngstown), saying, "Why don't they send us a clergyman? Once a fortnight a service is held here by howling dervishes, calling themselves Nazarenes, instead of our dear old Church of England services." In one of the prairie towns I saw the Holy Rollers' tent erected, and should like to have attended one of their meetings just to see what they are like; but as I was doing Anglican Mission work, I feared it might create a wrong impression. I received a description of the meeting from an eye-witness, however. The order of procedure is as follows: The preacher gets up and begins to speak in excited tones, gradually working himself up into a frenzy and becoming unintelligible. This is contagious, and the audience soon become frenzied also, finally rolling about the floor--hence the name by which the sect is known. When the people are in this ecstatic state they are persuaded to sign cheques for large amounts. The Holy Rollers will not come to a town unless a considerable sum is first guaranteed, and this peculiarity of theirs adds point to the settlers' query with regard to the Anglican clergy. It is dreadful to think of the sheep being left to these hirelings.

A matter of grave import had come under my notice on the prairie, and I felt it to be my duty to speak of it to those who were working for the welfare of the province. The lack of a high spiritual standard, with its consequent elevated moral tone, is having a gravely deleterious effect on the children's morality, proving a serious menace to the health of the community on which the welfare of this new country depends. On this point I was strongly supported by the wife of one of the members of the Senate, herself a trained nurse, who had lived for many years on the prairie, and also by an experienced clergyman and a Sunday School superintendent. All three gave me permission to use their names if necessary, and promised to supply corroborative details. They lived in widely separated districts, thus making their combined evidence of more value. Whilst in Regina, therefore, I reported to the presidents or secretaries of the following: The Local Council of Women, The Women Grain-Growers' a.s.sociation, The Women Home-makers' Club, and the Social Service Council, all of which organisations work throughout the province, and are interdenominational.

The secretary of the Social Service Council asked me to give a report of our work on the prairie to the Interdenominational Sunday School Council for the province. I was very glad to be present at this council, because I learnt so much. We discussed methods and organisation, not doctrine.